When Will You Learn, Mr Rabbit?
by DarkPoisonousLove
Summary: Living alone in the quiet tower isn't easy so Alice makes a friend to always keep her company. They start learning new skills to help them with life when they finally get out of there but the sea is not always smooth for sailing. Will their friendship survive the storm of Alice's mood swings?


**A/N: For my 100 followers celebration I got an anonymous request (that was very sweet) for a fic about what Alice got up to during the years she spent alone in the tower. So here's a fic of Alice bonding with her little stuffed friend – Mr. Rabbit, with a side of Knight Rook feels. Reviews are greatly appreciated.  
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Her papa was gone and the tower was so silent. And in the silence every little sound was amplified until it was loud and terrifying and made her want to shrink even more until no one would be able to find her and hurt her.

Alice wanted to put a stop to it, but she hadn't spoken in weeks. She didn't want to. In the dreadful emptiness of the tower her voice turned into a horrifying echo of despair. And there was no point anyway. Who was there for her to speak to?

As the thought crossed her mind, her gaze met that of Mr. Rabbit and a twinge of guilt stabbed her. Mr. Rabbit was there for her. He'd been there the whole time, keeping her company, and she hadn't looked at him twice, swallowed by the devastating silence. But it wasn't like he could speak back so she shrugged the thought off.

A few days later when she was reading a book, she was dying to let her voice out and read aloud. But just the thought of how lonely the sound of it would be changed her mind. Alice closed the book and turned away from it, locking eyes with Mr. Rabbit. The look he was giving her was begging her to talk to him. As if that would have any effect besides making her feel even more alone, talking to stuffed animals like a madwoman.

She turned back to her book and flipped it open, almost tearing the pages in her haste.

It wasn't long before her birthday came. Her eyes were full of tears the entire day for there wasn't even anyone to wish her a happy birthday. Not that it was anyway. She'd been born to stay trapped in the bloody tower and every birthday she spent in there just strengthened her doubts that she would ever see the world outside of her prison. At least before she'd had her papa. But now...

The tears fell when she was about to blow out the candle and make her birthday wish. It was the same every year–get out of her prison–and every year it didn't come true. But that year it was different. That year she also had another wish – she wanted her papa back. And she knew she could't have both. She had to choose. And how was she supposed to choose between freedom and love?

So the tears fell. And the sobs followed. And there were words trying to claw their way out, too. But she wouldn't let therm. She swallowed them back, almost choking on their chunky bodies with sharp edges that wanted to cut through her throat and break free. But she couldn't let them. They had to stay trapped for there wasn't anyone to hear them but her. And she didn't want to hear them. Not on her own. She just wished to have someone to talk to.

Through the curtain of tears in her eyes she couldn't see the candle get blown out by her heavy sigh. She could only stumble back to her bed and cry herself to sleep, hoping that tomorrow would be different. It didn't matter in what way. Just different.

She was woken up by her own sneeze. Mr. Rabbit had fallen in her face and his ear had been tickling her nose.

She put him back in his place and tried to go back to sleep but the softness of his tiny body wouldn't leave her mind. It was the first soothing feeling in a very long time.

She looked at him. His eyes were so warm and inviting that her heart started thumping in her ears as she opened her mouth, ready to do the unthinkable.

"Good morning, Mr. Rabbit," she spoke, jumping slightly at the sound of her own voice. She hadn't heard it in so long. She'd forgotten what it was like to speak. And it was good. It was so good.

She didn't get a verbal response, but in her mind Mr. Rabbit was talking to her. Looked like her spontaneous wish had come true after all.

It turned out Mr. Rabbit was a great listener. He didn't complain when she gave him an earful about the latest thing that was on her mind. Her hysterical bursts of laughter and her high-pitched shrieks of loneliness didn't seem to bother him and he kept offering her comfort with his never warm but always soft tiny body.

She wondered how someone so small could be her pillar of strength. Still, she was grateful for everything he'd done for her. He'd never abandoned her, even when she had been trying to forget about his existence. And she would never abandon him. She would take him with her when she left. She wouldn't leave a friend behind.

And the two of them had only ever lived in the tower. They weren't prepared for life outside of it. There were so many things they didn't know, things they hadn't learned. So they'd better do, Alice decided. They had to prepare themselves. And they had so much time on their hands and feet anyway. They could use it productively.

Alice decided that another language would be useful. Her papa could speak Latin. He'd even taught her some simple phrases. When he'd still been with her. Alice's heart got heavy at the thought. But she wouldn't despair. She just had to think of how proud her papa would be when they were finally reunited and she told him she'd learned Latin. She could even greet him in Latin. She grinned at the thought. She could imagine the shock on his face before it turned into a proud smile. That would be a somnia vera facit*.

And even though it was going well – there were few things to distract her and Mr. Rabbit – she didn't like the general experience. It had been so much more fun when she'd been studying with her papa, much more fruitful. He'd known the language and had corrected her when she'd made a mistake. Mr. Rabbit, on the other hand, knew just as much as she did. And that made progress harder for both of them, but they still tried their best.

That was why Alice decided they should only speak in Latin until they mastered it. It seemed like a good idea until they actually tried to pull it off. They would find themselves consulting the books for every other word and it sucked out the joy of speaking. Which was about the only joy Alice had.

Still, it payed off for they started getting the hang of it pretty soon. Though now every mistake seemed more jarring. It grated on Alice's nerves, cutting them up one by one until she couldn't take it anymore.

"That's not how you say it!" she found herself snapping at the bunny one day. "When will you learn, Mr. Rabbit?" she jumped out of bed to grab the open book and show the bunny his mistake. However, in her frenzied state she wasn't careful and tore off some pages from the book instead.

It halted her tantrum as she looked at the pages in her hand and then to her bunny friend. Her eyes welled up with tears. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rabbit." She hadn't meant to yell at him. He knew just as much as she did. And she hadn't meant to tear the book. It had no fault. And her frustration was pointless anyway because they had all the time in the world. They weren't going anywhere.

The tears started falling and she slumped on the floor with the torn off pages strewn in her lap. The water drops streamed down her face and fell on the, wetting the paper, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. For they weren't going anywhere.

Still, she found herself learning etiquette with her little friends next. They needed to learn how to behave in social situations since they'd never been in such. So they read up everything they could find on the topic and practiced all the time. And what better way to practice than applying all their knowledge to their tea parties?

Since she didn't have so many different spoons, knives and forks, she used her paintbrushes as pretend cutlery. That way they could still practice and learn. And soon both she and Mr. Rabbit knew just how to behave at the table. They could be drinking tea with a queen and she wouldn't be able to find a fault in their table manners.

So when at her birthday party Alice noticed that Mr. Rabbit's forks weren't put in the right order, she, naturally, had a reaction.

"Your forks are out of place," she said, disappointment coating her voice. "When will you learn, Mr. Rabbit?" she reached over the table to fix his mistake when something caught her gaze.

There was a hole in his neck where she could see his stuffing showing. She'd noticed the wrong order of the forks but hadn't noticed his injury. Who knew how long he'd sported it. Her friend was in pain and she was scolding him for forks instead of trying to help him.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rabbit," she apologized as she took him in her embrace and the tears started falling, wetting his fur.

That year Alice wished to be able to help her friend. She'd be forever stuck in that bloody tower anyway. All the previous years and unfulfilled wishes proved it. At least that way she would be able to take care of her friend who was always there to help her pass the time. Maybe that would make her own pain go away, too.

Soon after that she decided to learn to tie knots to take her mind off the most recent accident. It would be useful, too, when she joined her papa on the Jolly Roger, and they would sail the seas together. And her papa would be so proud of her when he saw how good of a sailor she was.

She took a piece of rope and began practicing. She already knew how to tie a knot or two. Her papa had shown her some basics and had said he'd teach her more when he got her out of there. But now that he was gone, she had to teach herself.

Her nostrils flared as she looked at the rope in her hands before throwing it on the ground. It was useless to her. She couldn't even get out of the tower. And even if she could, she couldn't go anywhere near her papa. The mark on her wrist was there to stay and keep them apart while also being a constant reminder of her misfortune.

She got up and joined Mr. Rabbit for some tea that he had prepared. She took her cup for a sip, but put it back down with a clash as soon as she'd drunk from it. It was the wrong tea. It was the one that kept her awake. Mr. Rabbit knew that. He'd been there to see her restless tossing and turning.

"You mixed up the tea!" she accused. "When will you learn, Mr. Rabbit?" she asked as she jumped from her chair, knocking down another cup in the process.

It shattered against the floor, startling Alice. Her eyes widened when she saw the pattern on the pieces of china. That was her cup. Mr. Rabbit hadn't mixed up the tea. She'd mixed up the cups.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Rabbit," she looked at him apologetically. "But I'll tell you what," she continued in a conspiratorial tone, "how about I throw you a party next week?" She smiled excitedly. "Great!"

She went to clean up the mess, glad that she'd have something to keep her mind off her birthday. Another one had come and gone and she was still trapped. That always tormented her so much that she couldn't sleep at that time of the year. But now she had a distraction and a very important task. She had to make it up to her friend.

The party the following week was grand. Everyone attended and held up to the high standards when it came to etiquette and language – only Latin was allowed. The room was full of chatter and the inspired decorations that Alice had made by tying pieces of rope together. And Mr. Rabbit was the guest of honor. He even had a new bow-tie that she'd made him to cover the stitches on his neck.

The two of them had a toast, clinking their cups together, and Alice was glad to find that the cup that she'd glued back together didn't fall apart. And neither had the book of Latin after she'd fixed it. It appeared that she was learning. And Mr. Rabbit was learning with her, too.

* * *

*somnia vera facit – dream come true


End file.
